


Burn it Down

by cherry619



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M, POV Seth Rollins, Past Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Seth Rollins | Tyler Black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 13:05:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17023155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherry619/pseuds/cherry619
Summary: Seth gets a late night visitor.





	Burn it Down

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've had this idea of a drunk, obviously been in a fight, Dean showing up at Seth's door and how would Seth react to that? And so this was born. It took awhile to finally write it all down because each time I wrote I didn't like the outcome so I erased it all. I like portraying Seth as a bit manic, almost like Dean to a point, trying very hard to ignore everything Dean is doing but failing miserably and his obvious love and affection for Dean is blurring the lines of sanity for him. So that's what I tried to achieve. There is also no happy ending here sorry to say. This is still post Dean heel turn.

It’s close to 2 am by the time Seth’s eyes snap open at hearing a loud pounding at his door. His adrenaline is running overtime as he slowly rolls himself off the bed and attempts to shake off his last dredges of sleep.

Thinking that a crazed fan has somehow found his hotel room, Seth grasps his phone in his sweaty palms ready to dial 911 for the cops if necessary. It wouldn’t be the first time a fan has somehow tracked down his nightly sleeping arraignments.

_Usually, he’d have people to watch his back though._

The thought briefly crosses his mind, so intrusive and depressing that it immediately sends Seth’s heart spiraling down into the pit of his stomach. “Great,” Seth grumbles under his breath the knocking becoming louder and more aggressive making him flinch. He’d now have a headache, on top of dealing with some psycho fan that either wants to kidnap him for 20 years or somehow murder him for some undisclosed reasons, and now he’d have to take likely 5 sleeping pills to knock his ass back out so he wouldn’t stay up and think about-

Seth’s mental rant is suddenly cut off by the sound of something being jammed into the door lock, jiggling for a few seconds before the sound of the lock being undone is heard.

The sound makes Seth jump, the room is so damn dark that even when the door swings open slowly, and a large shadowy form enters menacingly Seth just stands in confusion laced with panic.

It isn’t until the figure takes his first steps inside the room after closing the door that Seth pounces with a strangled yell.

It wasn’t glorious by any means and Seth somehow dropped his phone in the scuffle as his limbs tangled with equally strong muscular arms to attempt to wrestle the guy into some form of submission.

It isn’t until Seth manages to whack the guy, pretty damn hard, on the back of his head and the guy lets out a _familiar_ sounding hiss that Seth freezes.

“ _Dean_?” Seth breathes shakily, his skin tingling and his heart tightening in his chest, feeling as if the air was being sucked from his body, he didn’t even realize the slip of Dean’s name before it was too late. Falling from his lips making Seth sound all of 6 years old.

Seth’s sweat slick hands immediately slide from _Dean’s_ muscular forearms. He scrabbles around in the dark for a few attempting to find the light before he’s flinging it on cruelly.

The light doesn’t affect him in the slightest, too amped up to even comprehend what’s happening, but the light makes Dean fold in on himself moaning loudly and shielding his eyes.

“Fuck Rollins,” Dean’s scratchy voice grunts out. “Fucking _too_ bright.”  

Seth’s not even sure he’s grasping what he’s seeing currently. “What the fuck?” Seth finally utters out after a painful few seconds of just staring at the man on the floor. “What the fucking hell are you doing here, _Ambrose_?!”

Dean doesn’t answer though, Seth watches as he attempts to try and stand on his feet but fails pathetically, reaching for the wall to steady himself. His black jacket is crumpled to all hell, matching the dirt stained white t-shirt underneath. It gives Dean a skeevy vibe as if he’s just been in the worst kind of fight with a trash can and lost severely.

“Ambrose!” Seth yells impatiently, heart beating frantically as his blood pressure rises to dangerous levels. Anger begins to churn in his gut the longer Dean ignores him, lazily leaning on the wall and turned away from him as if Seth didn’t even exist.

Seth growls before he’s marching into Dean’s personal space and taking a hand full of his jacket and hauling him up against the wall, punctuated by a sharp thump of Dean’s head clashing against the drywall.

“What the hell Ambro-” Seth’s angry retort falls short as he finally manages to get a good look at his face. Blood ran down Dean’s forehead from what appeared to be a cut somewhere up high on the crown of his head, a severely bruised eye was firmly swollen shut, already mottled in deep purple and looking painful to the touch. Dean’s bottom lip was about twice the size it should be currently, sporting a nice cut in the middle that if Dean even attempted to move his lips would instantly start bleeding again. His nose was also caked in blood on the inside, sounding congested as he attempted to inhale and exhale.

The absolute worst part was the _stench._ Dean reeked of alcohol. Almost as if he bathed in it and washed his clothes in the substance. The fumes wafted into Seth’s nose making him gag immediately.

“D’ya mind takkking your handsss off, huh?” Dean’s slurred, confused speech prompted Seth to immediately drop his hands from his jacket and back away in a hurry. Dean slumped half way into the wall, but this time didn’t teeter over, thank fuck.

Seth rubbed his face aggressively attempting to try and dispel what he was currently experiencing but no matter how much he rubbed his palms into his eyes the image of one Dean Ambrose firmly remained in his vision. He wasn’t going away.

Seth found himself at a loss for words except- “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Don’t believe in Jesus.” Dean huffed back, taunting. The little asshole. Even as fucked up as he was and as drunk as he was, he still managed to piss Seth off.

“Shut up,” Seth ground out, rubbing at his beard again, a sign of his rising anxiety. He paced a few moments before remembering his dropped phone in the scuffle. Thankfully, it didn’t get broken as he picked it up and dusted it off before unlocking it.

“Gonna call the cops on me?” Dean asked, his voice three octaves lower likely due to the broken nose he was possibly sporting, or the concussion the fucking idiot managed to acquire.

“What else am I supposed to do? You broke into my room, you lost to a brick wall _three_ times it looks like, and you’re fucking drunk. I don’t need this right now.”

“When did you ever _need_ this, anyway?” Dean sneered pushing himself from the wall and almost taking a head dive into Seth.

Seth backed up one step, unsure of what Dean would do. This new Dean was a different beast and Seth had a difficult time reading him. He thought he knew Dean but as it turns out maybe he really didn’t. Maybe Dean was just a good liar or maybe Seth was the one lying, to himself, to Roman and to the fans.

“Just shut the fuck up Ambrose.” Seth grumbled, hand clenching the phone tightly prepared to dial _any_ number so that they would make this all go away.

With surprising speed, considering his current handicaps, Dean managed to make it to Seth in about two large steps and ripped the phone from his slack hands with a small laugh of, “make me” under his breath.

Seth’s patience was wearing increasingly thin, in response Seth shoved Dean with about half of the force he could have considering the man wasn’t even functional right now.

Like expected, Dean staggered until he was against the wall again leaning heavily, far enough away from Seth to make him feel not only physically safe but mentally safe from Dean’s attacks.

Dean took a moment to regain his bearings before he was pushing off the wall again, a smug smile on his face making him look grotesque. The black eye surely had to have been giving Dean a major headache, or ya know the fucking cut still leaking blood _should_ have knocked his drunk ass out by now but Dean’s veins were pumped full of determination. Determination for what exactly Seth didn’t really know.

“Why are you here?” Seth finally asked crossing his arms across his chest to try and appear stronger than what he felt.

“Why not?” Dean offered back in a maddeningly non-answer retort. Dean’s one good eye swung around the room, taking in everything he could.

Seth was already on edge. “Leave Ambrose, now.”

Dean chuckled, dark and sinister. “I thought I already told you-” Dean stumbled, his gait unsteady as he slowly made his way right back to Seth. “Make me.” Dean’s whiskey laden breath huffed right in Seth’s face as his finger jabbed into Seth’s exposed ribcage.

Seth slapped Dean’s hands away and slightly pushed him back. “Stop the nonsense and just leave Ambrose.”  The pleading in his tone obviously didn’t go unnoticed by Dean who was poised and ready to attack in anyway he see fit, currently, with his steel laden tongue.

“Really? _Please_ Dean leave? That’s the best you got? What happened to making my life hell, huh? When’s that fun going to start?”

Dean’s words mashed together but Seth got the message pretty damn clear. Dean was _pushing_ for another fight. Likely pushed for one at the bar and got his ass beat but still walked away wanting another. How Dean managed to find out where Seth was staying Seth would never likely know but Seth wasn’t going to give into Dean’s demands. He’d rather Dean sit in the drunk tank and go twelve rounds with the brick walls than have to deal with a drunk, concussed Dean itching for Seth to hurt him.

Seth simply ignored him and turned around attempting to relocate his phone again.

Dean laughed loudly a sneer of “fucking pussy” pushing past his toxic lips making Seth’s shoulders tighten but he wouldn’t give into it.

“Ignore me. That’s it Seth, go on ignoring what’s _obviously_ in front of you.”

Seth flinched but kept on scanning the room until his eyes finally spotted the corner of his phone sticking out underneath the side table. His victory was so damn close just one more step and Seth will have made this whole issue disappear.

Dean’s angry rants eventually blending together until it was just white noise for Seth until Seth’s ears unfortunately picked up Dean spewing out- “Roman...”

Seth froze, his back muscles tightening as he turned around, a murderous look upon his face. “What?”

Dean smiled, a devilishly handsome grin despite him looking like a Halloween costume gone wrong. His split lip was bleeding until it pooled underneath his chin, Seth could even see flecks of blood on Dean’s white teeth.

“What did you say?” Seth demanded.

Dean continued smiling, his smug face a constant reminder of the misery Seth currently suffered through. Night and day, every minute and second Dean’s face haunted every decision, thought, and step Seth made. He was the face he pictured when he was in the ring and unfortunately, he was the face he pictured when he was in a tag match, standing right next to him on the apron. He was also the face that haunted his nightmares, haunted his dreams and now stared down at him with a pathetic smile, clearly loving how much Seth’s heart was shattering into tiny pieces inside his chest.

Before Seth could even blink, he was pushing Dean back against the wall, fist posed back to strike, Dean was palpable in his hands, his one good eye open wide and staring at Seth’s irate brown ones obviously milking in every damn second he could of the interaction.

“Just do it.” Dean whispered, _encouraged,_ Seth’s fist shook the longer he held it midair his muscles burning for reprieve.

“I-I can’t,” Seth finally whispered hand falling down to his side body giving up it’s will to even hold Dean in place. His head fell in shame he could feel Dean’s eyes, or eye, watching every move he made, soaking it in and attempting to try and plan what to do next.

“Why not?” Dean eventually whispered his voice so faint that Seth could barely even hear it.

“No amount of hitting you could make me forget that I still _love_ you. No amount of words, violence, heartbreak and anger could make me forget it. Why can’t I just forget it?” Seth pleaded his hands falling back to Dean’s t-shirt and gripping it tight. He felt tears sting in his eyes but angrigly blinked them away.

Dean’s smile was...different, calming almost. “Love always hurts in the end.” Dean eventually whispered before his body, obviously giving up on him in that moment, slid down the wall taking Seth with him as he clocked out for the night whether from the alcohol the concussion or a mixture of both.

Seth was left with Dean’s pliant body in his hands, his breathing even and deep.

Like clockwork Seth wiped his face of any trace of weakness and hurt and decided to do what he knew how to do best, fix Dean.

He managed to heft him up enough to drag his dead weight to the bed where he was plopped with gentle effort that Seth honestly didn’t know he still had left, but was obviously his instincts kicking back in.

Seth robotically walked to the bathroom where he wet a few warm washcloths and brought them back to the bedside. He managed to pluck his phone from under the side table and with thoughts of calling the police gone he turned on the phone’s light and inspected the cut that was on Dean’s head.

He hissed in surprise at seeing the jagged cut that appeared to be from glass, possibly a beer bottle. With Dean’s shorn hair it was all too easy to see the woven path of scars that adorned his head from deathmatch wrestling to the rough streets of Cincinnati and apparently the numerous amount of bar fights he found himself in.

Staring at the cut for too long was making him queasy so he did his best to dab it gently with a warm wash cloth and hoped it didn’t need stiches. Dean wasn’t going to go to a hospital, that much was obvious, and Seth couldn’t deal with Dean somehow bleeding out in his bed either, so he prayed for whatever God there was to possibly spare Dean’s drunken ass tonight.

The black eye was truly gnarly looking as Seth prodded it gently to feel for a broken eye socket. Whoever socked Dean in the face had a fucking huge fist. Seth could feel the small dredges of anger well within the pit of his stomach. No matter what happened between them, and no matter how angry he was at Dean he couldn’t stand to see him hurt, _especially_ from someone else’s hands. Not feeling any broken bones Seth just laid the warm washcloth across the black eye hoping to reduce swelling.

Dean’s fat lip would heal with time and since the giant jackass was unconscious his big mouth wouldn’t keep breaking the cut open again.

Seth peeled back Dean’s good eye and tested its reaction to the light. He wasn’t a doctor by any means and he wasn’t even sure he was doing it right but something in his gut told him that Dean wasn’t _too_ badly concussed, he hoped.

Seth sighed laying his head down on Dean’s midriff and attempted to just breathe for a few moments. The comforting feeling of Dean simply breathing was relaxing Seth far more than he wanted to admit.

It downright _scared_ him.

Pushing himself away from Dean Seth stood up on shaky legs. “What the fuck have I gotten myself into.”

Seth’s phone alarm greets him at 6 am sharp making him groan and roll over in the bed...an empty bed.

Seth sat up, blinking bleary as he tried to take in the sight of his empty bed. One Dean Ambrose was occupying for most of the night because Seth didn’t know what else to do.

The bed was barren, the sheets all wrinkled and torn up and Seth would have missed it if he simply rolled the other way but Seth, somehow pathetically wanting to occupy the empty space to see if it was still _warm_ rolled right onto it.

It stabbed at his stomach making him wince as his hand dug under his belly before he was grasping onto a lighter.

Seth felt his breath quicken, his arm shakes as his thumb ran over rough plastic, plastic that was meant to be smooth. Turning over the lighter Seth flicked it on for some light and peered at the poorly scratched plastic that clearly read.

_Burn it Down._

Seth simply gripped the lighter tighter and screamed.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
